Varnish
by Scarred
Summary: He couldn't help but smile.


A fun conversation on Twitter turned not so fun when I started getting emotional about nail polishes.

* * *

 _Garrett and Fenris_

Fenris had found the box in a campsite they scavenged. He got down on his knees and brushed aside the cold, limp wrist that lay across the box before he picked it up. His fingers curled around the damaged, wooden thing, and his eyes narrowed at the intricate design still visible. Prying open the case, Fenris barely had any time to examine the contents before he heard voices behind him.

"What've you got there?"

"Anything good?"

He looked down and narrowed his eyes at the various bottles and containers within. "I am not sure." Fenris picked up a small bottle, lifted it up, and shook it. A glittery purple substance whirled around.

"Let me see that," Isabela said, reaching over and snatching the bottle from Fenris' fingers. He tried not to look too annoyed as she stood beside him and tutted underneath her breath. "Oh, please," she started, unscrewing the cap and shaking her head. "It's nail polish."

"Nail polish?" Fenris asked slowly, standing up and looking into the box again.

Hawke walked up beside him and stretched out his hand, drawing out another bottle. He did the same as Fenris and shook it. This one was a black color. You could barely see the polish whirl around.

Isabela tutted even louder, glancing over at the two as she dabbed a bit of the purple varnish onto her thumb. "Boys," she muttered, putting the cap back on. "Hopeless." She stuck the bottle back into the box and gave Hawke and Fenris both a look. "It's a beauty box. Or something." She gestured loosely to the tent, where Merrill was busy looking through the pockets of the lifeless bodies. "Look at those sods. Fancy, uptight. Of course they'd have this. Have to keep up appearances somehow, yeah?"

"Oh, yes," Hawke said. "Definitely have to keep up appearances when you're wandering around aimlessly. Never know who you'll meet." He dropped the black polish back into the box, and Fenris snapped it shut. "Might see Empress Celene." Fenris rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face, and nudged Hawke.

* * *

Fenris favored the darker colors in the box, black and gray. Nothing flashy or showy for him. Varric had made a comment, stating how they matched his "charming personality". Hawke, on the other hand, let his preference for the purple color be well known. As they sat in Hawke's house, Fenris had to give Hawke a few, well-meant looks when he had to tear his attention away from his book. Hawke was in front of the fire, fingers curled and letting the light reflect off the varnish.

"If you tilt your hand one way, it looks completely different!" Fenris shook his head and ducked his face back into the book.

"It's glitter, Hawke."

Hawke laughed. "Remarkable. Who comes up with these things?"

"Orlesians, most likely."

His amusement was pleasing, Fenris had to admit, and he watched his own fingers curl against the page of the book, the gray polish on his thumb greeting him. He furrowed his eyes a bit and glanced towards Hawke once more, as Hawke let out a curse and a mutter of "damn, chipped it."

Fenris set aside his book and slipped off the bed, walking over to Hawke and dropping in front of him. He gave Hawke a long look, and several minutes later, Hawke was bent over Fenris' hand, painting the nails with his tongue in between his lips.

As Fenris looked down at his yellow nails, he couldn't help but smile.

* * *

 _Marian and Anders_

Anders meant well, of course, when he went through Hawke's dresser. He was moving his clothes into one of the bottom drawers, not wanting to crowd his things with Hawke's own, and he figured a bottom drawer was the safest place. As he opened the drawer, he found a small wooden box, pushed back in the corner. Anders blinked and carefully picked it up, holding it with two hands as he studied. It looked old, but it was obvious the thing had been properly taken care of. Letting his curiosity get the best of him, Anders slowly opened up the box.

Inside were a few small bottles, brushes, and containers. A necklace rested in the corner, as well as a few rings. Anders picked up each bottle, noting the different colors of nail polish and containers of makeup. Hawke wore makeup, so why was this hid away? Unless…

"Anders, I'm—what are you doing?"

Lifting his head and meeting Hawke's gaze, he offered a sympathetic smile. "This was your mother's, right?"

She paused, fingers curling at her sides and staring at Anders. Just staring. Finally, she breathed out and nodded. "Yes," she said, starting to walk towards him. "It was my mother's. She gave it to me when I turned eighteen." Anders scooted over to give Hawke some room as she sat down. She took the box from him and smiled as she looked inside. "Bethany was so jealous." Hawke gave a small laugh, shaking her head. She picked up each container and bottle, as Anders had, and stared at them. The smile was still on her face. "To be honest, I had forgotten it was in there. Last time I saw it was when I moved in."

Anders remained quiet for a moment more before he looked over at her. "Is any of it still good?"

* * *

Anders preferred the blacks and blues on his nails. He watched Hawke paint her nails with a finesse he couldn't achieve if he tried. She often leaned to the purple varnish, the glittery shine bringing a smile to her face. Hawke lifted her fingers and waved them, laughing. Anders couldn't work the glitter. The dull colors drew him in. He let Hawke have all the purples and royal colors as she liked.

Eventually, as time passed, Anders grew bored of his usual colors, and picked up the bottle of the pink polish. He stared at it, long and hard, and furrowed his eyebrows. Hawke was always so quiet, and she appeared at his side, taking the bottle from his fingers and giving him a knowing smile. Anders hated when she did that, like she knew him better than he did.

They sat in front of the fire, Anders holding out his hand as Hawke painted. She was careful, as always, and gently blew on each as she finished. Then, she twisted the cap back on and stared at Anders, long and hard, and stood. Hawke returned with her box, and several minutes later, Anders and Hawke both had varying amounts of makeup decorating their faces.

As Hawke ran the brush against Anders' cheek, he couldn't help but smile.


End file.
